


Impure Fantasies

by locusdesperatus



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Drugged Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26768626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locusdesperatus/pseuds/locusdesperatus
Summary: Alfred gives in to his desires.Based on a prompt from curiouscat.
Relationships: Claire Redfield/Alfred Ashford
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Impure Fantasies

She was such a peculiar little thing.

Fiery and bold, she'd made her way onto the island with the same force that enabled the sea to send crashing, cascading waves over the rocky beaches and unkempt shores. Unfortunately, in her haste to search for her brother, she'd gotten sloppy- her actions in Paris had proven that. Despite her bravado and wiley courage, Umbrella was able to contain her long enough to deliver her to Rockfort without incident. She was supposed to be kept contained and out of the way, but she was just as devious as her brother, if not more so.

That was what intrigued him. She had spirit. Most of Umbrella's prisoners were weak, snivelling, cowardly bastards who trembled at his feet and begged for mercy. She was the type to spit in his face. Insolence required punishment, and repeated offenses would call for more extreme measures. Preemptively, Alfred decided to corrupt her, to make her see just how gentlemanly he could be if she obeyed.

Food and water, laced with sweet, barely detectable drugs, were fed to her by some of the staff that she had befriended. It worked like a charm, sending her into a soft, lulling sleep. Alfred came down to retrieve her in person, breaking his rule of coming anywhere near the rats that populated his prison. He carried her up and away from the rotting, festering walls, over the threshold of the mansion, and into the most private place of all- his quarters. Expansive and impressive, they betrayed his fine taste and penchant for luxury. Silk curtains, marble flooring, solid oak furniture, everything screamed of posh, old money and affluence. 

Alfred set Ms. Redfield down on the bed, holding her shoulders upright in order to remove her coat. He set it aside, giving the gaudy design on the back only the briefest bit of his attention. Any moment now, she should begin to awaken. He had to be prepared. Glancing in the mirror above his bombe, he ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into place. 

Perhaps if he pulled out all the stops, she would see him for the man he truly was. Sweet, well-mannered, and generous, he could be the man of her dreams, if only she would give him the chance.

Her soft groans clued him in that time was fast running out. He watched her unconsciously rub her thighs together, no doubt affected by the experimental hormone that Umbrella had given him. It was a breeding hormone, one meant to elevate arousal and fertility. He wasn't interested in children- not this time. His focus was entirely on _her_.

"Where am I?" She was fighting through the haze, desperate to parse out her surroundings. Blindly, she slapped the bed sheets, looking for a weapon.

"Worry not," Alfred spoke. "You are not in danger."

"You… must be Lord Ashford." Claire squinted at him, as if trying to clear her vision. "What do you want from me?" 

"It's not about what I want, it's about what _you_ want, my dear." He sat beside her on the bed. She was still too groggy to fight as he took her hand, holding it between his own. Her fingers were dainty compared to his, though they sported old calluses and a few scars. 

"What _I_ want?" She seemed shocked. The wheels began to turn as her thighs clenched. "What- why-"

"Let me help you." Alfred set her hand down, moving to the foot of the bed so that he could remove her boots and socks. She didn't protest, her hands twitching gently against the sheets. How pleasant. Alfred unhooked the clasp on her jeans, watching carefully for any resistance. She didn't comment on the way he rubbed the swell of her hips, her eyes empty and dull as she stared at the ceiling. Her underwear was soft cotton, not as fancy as he would have hoped. No matter, he could buy her whatever she desired.

"It feels warm, doesn't it?" He asked, reaching out to run his finger over the innocuous dark spot on her panties. She jolted at his touch, and her mouth fell open in surprise, but she never yelled out. Alfred removed the last barrier with ease, licking his lips impatiently. He crawled onto the bed, moving her around to suit his needs. Her legs went up and over his shoulders, and he freed himself from his pants, excited at the meer prospect of what he was about to do.

Claire moaned out loud as he pushed in, gushing around him. She was soft and warm, welcoming him as he worked his cock in deeper. Wordless praises fell from his lips, the absolute euphoria of the conquest- of getting what he wanted- completely overtaking him. She barely seemed to hear him, but that wasn't much of a deterrent. He'd gotten used to talking to himself.

She was so pliant beneath him, so perfect and welcoming. Her body seemed to cling to his cock as he withdrew, attempting to reel him back in. Slick with arousal, they filled the room with filthy noises that echoed off the walls. Alfred imagined what it would be like when she was fully aware, when she participated in her own debauchery. Would she push him down and climb on top? Would she fuck herself on his cock, using him like a toy? He panted heavily, lost in his fantasies. She would moan out his name, tangle her hands in his hair, rake her nails over his chest-

"Oh-!" He buried his face in her bosom, snapping his hips forward as he orgasmed. A thick layer of sweat covered them both, sticking their skin together and providing tangible evidence of their lovemaking. Perhaps even more tangible than the sickly drip of his cum. Alfred ground his hips forward in slow circles, basking in the warmth for a little longer. He loved the way her chest rose and fell around him, wishing that he'd taken the time to remove her shirt and bra. Another night, perhaps.

For now, he would wait until his heart settled before backing away and cleaning himself up. He had laid out a long, soft nightgown for her to wear, decorated with fine silk and delicate lace. She would look stunning as she warmed his bed. The drugs would wear off completely by the morning, but after tonight's performance, he didn't worry about her potential resistance. And if she did, he could simply drug her again.

Of all the luxuries he had experienced, all the fixations that he had indulged himself in, she was by far the most gratifying. He would make her understand that, no matter the cost.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Twitter @pointofdespair


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